


Winner Takes All

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Decisions, Drunk Hank, Gunplay, Hannor, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Russian Roulette, funny in a dark kind of way, hank's got some fucked up kinks, hank/connor, hankcon - Freeform, not as dark as you'd think, sneaky connor, what if connor got to hank's house earlier in russian roulette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 18:04:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15297042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: What if Connor got to Hank's house sooner in Russian Roulette? What if, instead of finding Hank passed out on the kitchen floor, he witnesses Hank playing Russian Roulette and furiously jerking himself off at the thrill of escaping death's embrace?Connor has to save his Lieutenant - the mission demands it. But Hank doesn't want to be saved. He wants Connor to join him in playing with fire, and offers up a prize that Connor can't resist...





	Winner Takes All

**Author's Note:**

> I needed a little break from Ownership and this idea sprang into my head. This was supposed to be a dark idea, but it actually turned out to be sweeter, sexier and funnier than I expected. I hope you enjoy it. Please tell me what you think!

Connor peered through the kitchen window of Hank's house, looking for the Lieutenant. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw, and it took his processors a few moments to fully understand the implications of the scene playing out in front of him.

Hank sat at his kitchen table with a revolver in his hand, the barrel pointed at his temple. Before Connor could react, Hank pulled the trigger. The hammer hit an empty chamber with a click, and Hank laughed, gasping for breath before reaching into his shorts and furiously jerking himself off. A half empty bottle of whiskey sat on the kitchen table and he put the gun down, scooping up the bottle so he could take a swig while he continued to touch himself.

Connor was aroused and disturbed. The Lieutenant was in danger, which in turn jeopardized the mission. He couldn’t simply turn away. His directives wouldn’t allow it. Nor could he stand here and observe, or the next shot might be Hank’s last.

Hank reached for the gun again. Connor scanned the scene. The most direct way inside the house was through the window. He thrust his elbow through the glass and broke it. He backed up and dived through the window frame, landing heavily on the floor.

“What the fuck?” Hank turned, pointing his gun at Connor. Sumo padded over, whining and barking.

“Easy, Sumo,” Connor said. Sumo backed off.

Hank lowered the revolver. “Jesus fucking Christ, can’t you knock like a normal person?” He pulled his hand out of his shorts like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I apologize, Lieutenant, but you were in imminent danger. I had to intervene before you could harm yourself,” Connor explained. “What exactly were you doing?”

“I hate to have to explain the birds and the bees to you, Connor, but us humans have these things called kinks.” He placed the gun down on the table with a sigh. “This is mine. Russian Roulette. Six shots, one loaded chamber. If I get the bullet, I finally get the fuck out of this world. If I get an empty chamber, well, I get one hell of a boner. The alcohol—well, that’s just for courage.”

“That seems like a very dangerous way to satisfy a sexual urge,” Connor observed.

“That’s the fuckin’ point! Livin' on the edge! You should try it, Connor. What’s the worst that can happen—you come back tomorrow, good as new?” Hank took another swig from the whiskey bottle. Connor’s scan revealed he had a blood alcohol concentration of 0.08%. Hank was drunk, but not drunk enough to be incoherent and incapable of making decisions.

“Some of my memories are lost each time Cyberlife sends a replacement. It would not be conducive to the investigation," Connor explained.

“Is that your way of saying no? You’re not even slightly curious, Connor? Or does your model not come with sexual functions?”

“I assure you that I am fully equipped, Lieutenant.” Why were they having this conversation? He should have told Hank about the case. They could have been on their way to the Eden Club by now. This did nothing to further the investigation, and yet... Connor was curious. What would it feel like to pull the trigger, not knowing if you would live or die?

That and Hank’s raging erection was distracting him immensely. It hadn’t quelled much, and Hank’s tight shorts did nothing to hide the fact that he was pretty well equipped down there himself.

“Checkin' me out, Connor?” Hank slurred. “Like what you see? I had no idea androids were such horny motherfuckers. Tell you what, you come play one round with me, and if we both survive, we’ll jack each other off. How ‘bout it?”

“Lieutenant, I don’t think...” Connor started to speak, but his own protocols were starting to fall apart. The mission. He had to focus on the mission, and yet the raging hard-on Hank was sporting seemed to derail most of his core directives. What would it feel like to take Hank’s cock in his hand and stroke him to completion? To have Hank’s calloused hand wrap around his shaft and show him what an experienced man could do?

“You gonna be uptight about it? What a fuckin’ shame. Always with that stick up your ass.” Hank pushed the chair out from the table and clumsily got to his feet, staggering towards the bathroom. Connor realized he was losing his chance. He picked up the gun and spun the chamber.

“I’ll do it,” Connor said. “Sit down, Lieutenant.” Hank didn’t need to be told twice. He slumped into the chair, while Connor took the one opposite. Hank’s blue eyes bored into him, lips slightly apart, his breathing ragged as he watched Connor put the gun to his head.

Connor had calculated it all, of course. The spin, the location of the bullet... he couldn’t help but map those things out with his preconstruction abilities. 

He’d rigged the game so he’d win.

It didn’t stop his cock from twitching when he pulled the trigger and heard the click. He didn’t get an adrenaline rush like Hank, but he did respond to Hank’s, which was clear in his rapid heartbeat and blush response.

“My turn,” Hank said. He took another sip of whiskey. “Gettin’ too drunk for this, Connor. Can you help me out?”

“Of course, Lieutenant.” That had been Connor's plan all along, of course. He wasn’t going to let Hank come to harm while he sat there and watched. He’d started to develop an attachment to the man that he couldn’t quite explain, and the thought of him dying for a bet disturbed Connor. He spun the chamber and wrapped Hank's shaking fingers around the grip, guiding Hank’s unsteady hand to his temple.

It took Hank forever to buck up the courage to shoot, and Connor realized he’d stopped simulating breathing at some point during the gap between Hank pulling the trigger and the click of the hammer against the empty chamber.

Connor was an android. He didn’t make mathematical mistakes. Yet for a moment, he’d second-guessed his abilities. He’d been _scared_.

Hank laughed and put the gun down. “You win, Connor.” He pulled down his shorts, revealing his erect cock, tip glistening with pre-come. Connor looked at it and his body experienced an overwhelming impulse to touch and grope that he could only describe as need.

“Your turn,” Hank said. Connor unzipped his jeans and pulled them down to his knees, revealing his own hard cock. He grabbed his chair and sat down close to Hank, whose drunken eyes seemed captivated by his erection. Hank grasped him with one rough hand, giving Connor an experimental stroke. Connor moaned.

“Holy shit,” Hank said. “You really feel that, or are you just programmed to react?”

“I have millions of sensors centered in my penis alone,” Connor explained. “I may not be able to feel pain, but I do experience pleasure. The sexual experience would not be very satisfying without it.”

“Well yeah, most people like to give as well as receive. Makes sense.” Hank grabbed Connor’s hand and guided it to his cock. “Stroke me, Connor. We live to see another day. We should celebrate.”

Connor gripped Hank’s thick cock and slowly started to pump it. It was like silk over iron, and the way Hank’s breath caught in his throat was incredibly arousing.

“Fuck, Connor,” Hank muttered. “If your hand is this good, I can only imagine what your mouth feels like.” He grinned, and there was something about that pervy, toothy, drunken smile that set Connor's mind palace alight. 

Hank continued to stroke Connor with practiced ease until Connor was putty in his hands, incoherently mumbling Hank’s name. Right now there was only Hank Anderson and the wave of pleasure they were cresting together.

Hank’s cock seemed to get even harder in Connor’s hand, and then he came, great ropes of semen spilling all over Connor’s hand and Hank’s stomach. The sight sent Connor over the edge and he spasmed, bucking in the chair as Hank milked his orgasm out of him. He’d never come before, and suddenly he realized it was something he wanted to do all the time.

“Fuck,” Hank breathed. “Jesus Christ, Connor.” He looked down at the gun. “One more round? We win this, we suck each other off.”

“The refractory period for a human is—“

“Connor, I’m already gettin’ half hard just _thinkin'_ about it. Cheating Lady Death is just gonna be icing on the cake.” Hank spun the chamber and lifted the gun, and Connor’s calculations activated warnings as he realized Hank had the loaded chamber. If Hank pulled the trigger, he was going to die.

Connor realized in that moment he’d give anything to stop that from happening.

“It’s my turn,” Connor blurted out. He swiped the gun from Hank’s hand.

“Okay, but no cheatin’. I already spun the chamber. You gotta shoot. No do-overs.” Hank waved his hands around as he spoke, his motor skills failing as his intoxication grew. Maybe he wouldn't remember this later. Connor could only hope.

Connor put the gun to his temple. He looked into Hank’s eyes, thinking how absolutely gorgeous they were in the low light. The mission was a million miles away now, like it belonged in some other life, to some other android named Connor. It would, after all. He was done. The next Connor probably wouldn’t remember this encounter even happened. After all, it wasn’t relevant to the mission.

Connor pulled the trigger and it was game over.

***

Connor got out of a taxi a short while later. He was a new android sent by Cyberlife. He didn’t remember the circumstances of his previous death, but he was sure it wouldn’t endanger the mission.

He needed to find the Lieutenant. They had a new homicide involving a deviant android to investigate. He walked around the side of the building. Strangely, the side window seemed to be broken, as if someone had recently smashed it. He saw Hank’s body lying on the floor and jumped through the window. If Hank was in trouble, he needed to help.

He landed on the floor and scanned the Lieutenant. A bottle of whiskey sat on the ground, empty, and Hank’s revolver lay on the linoleum. Fortunately, Hank only seemed to be intoxicated, and showed no signs of trauma. He’d passed out before he could shoot himself.

Connor noticed something else, too, and moved before he could wake the Lieutenant. A trail of thirium, visible only to him now it had dried, led to a storage closet. Connor followed the trail and opened the door to see a previous incarnation of him tumble out onto the floor, complete with a bullet hole through the head.

Just what had he been doing here? Would the Lieutenant even remember when he woke up?

Deciding it was better off not to upset Hank with a deactivated version of himself when he woke, he hauled the old Connor out through the front door. He loaded the lifeless Connor into the trash can, noting it was collection day from the neighbors' trash on the sidewalk. By the time they got back from the Eden Club, his previous incarnation would probably be gone. Hopefully Hank wouldn’t know anything about it, and he could avoid the usual angry response he got from Hank when Connor died and came back to life.

He went back inside and slapped the Lieutenant awake. Hank stirred.

“It’s me, Connor,” Connor said.

“Oh, you're not Connor…” Hank slurred. "Connor's dead! I know he's dead!"

“The previous model was destroyed. I'm the new Connor,” Connor explained. He hoped that would be enough. Hank's blood alcohol concentration was 0.20%—enough to make him forget most of the night. He settled for never knowing what had happened to the previous Connor. It was unlikely Hank would even remember, and perhaps it was better if he didn’t. Something had happened here that had ended with a self-inflicted bullet in Connor's brain and just analyzing the concept seemed to destabilize his code a little, leaving him with a sensation much like fear in humans. He decided to leave it alone.

“I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but I need you,” Connor said, and while he’d meant for his car and detective credentials, something about his words seemed to strike a chord deep inside, as if he'd spoken a greater truth without realizing it. Could it have something to do with his missing memories?

Even drunk, there was something very lovely about Hank’s goofy smile and blue eyes. Connor helped him to his feet. They had a mission to accomplish, and he needed Hank with him, so he concentrated on sobering up his partner. They had a case to crack, and Hank wasn’t going to be much help when he was this drunk. Connor hauled him into the bathroom, fighting his protests like everything was normal and he hadn’t burst into the house to find a dead version of himself in the closet and Hank on the floor, drunk, with a revolver in his hand and come stains on his shorts.


End file.
